


When You Blow Out the Candles, Don't Forget to Make a Wish

by astronomical_alien



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dead May Parker (Spider-Man), I hate doing that because I love her but it has to be for the story, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Irondad, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, spiderson, very minimal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:15:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23587480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astronomical_alien/pseuds/astronomical_alien
Summary: Peter was a person who craved stability and at the same time never had it. Started out with a simple life with two happy parents – car crash. Resettled with a caring aunt and uncle, got into a prestigious science and math-based school – radioactive bug bite and a mugging gone wrong. Get into a foster home with a nice family, ask a girl to homecoming – crash a plane and get redistributed. However, all the instability did make Peter thankful for the three immovable crutches in his life: Ned, Spiderman, and Tony Stark. Changes sweep through his life, but the lab days never drift away in the wind. Ned never stops coming over, no matter the address. Spiderman never stops saving lives.However, despite Peter’s various abilities, whether super hearing, the strength to catch a Semi like a bowling ball, or the human ability to adapt to change; this new foster family is proving to be as difficult as the newest villain in New York City.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 53
Kudos: 356





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> I thought of a twist on the May's abusive bf / foster parent tropes so I'm giving it a shot. This twist is kind of obvious but who cares. Also This fic is actually kind of old but I'm revisiting it - not sure if I'll keep posting for it or not so any feedback is welcome! (as always). Thanks for reading and enjoy even though it's whumpy.

_1_

They are… interesting to say the least. His spidersense never catches fire around his new “parents”, but he can never seem to swallow down the queasy feeling that rises up in his throat. They aren’t mean. They aren’t absent (Beck sometimes is between work and his “man cave”, a recliner tucked away in a small office room). They seem to care, but Peter can’t help but carry them with suspicion. Something about the way Beck holds Peter in his gaze with the same suspicion and the way Caroline viewed him with curiosity, made him unsettled. She worked hard to welcome Peter into the home while Beck was… different. He never seemed happy to have Peter around. Most unsettling of all was the way Caroline held no will of her own against Beck. Peter felt uncomfortable every time he witnessed Caroline comply with anything Beck asked of her. Just like this morning before school.

“You look tired, Pete.” Beck said, trying to slick back his hair. A few strands fell in his eyes, somehow giving him a clean cut shaggy appearance with the 5 ‘o clock shadow ghosting his jaw and above his lip. “Bags under your eyes.”

Peter was tired. Patrol was crazy last night due to the new guy in town. Ned calls him Mysterio – somehow the news had taken to the name. Keeping a city safe is a task that even Tony struggles to manage. So of course Peter looked tired.

“Didn’t Caroline get you some eye cream?” Beck asked.

“Yeah,” Peter responded, grabbing an apple from the kitchen table.

“Put some on.” It wasn’t a suggestion. “Don’t want the whole building thinking we’re letting you stay up late.” Beck had a weird thing for appearance.

As if waiting behind curtains for a cue, Caroline waltzed in with cream on the tips of her thumbs. “Here Pete,” She said with a beaming smile. Peter turned to her and looked up to the ceiling as she delicately swiped her thumbs under his eyes. Her fingers grazed behind his ears and suddenly he was feeling May’s hands rubbing sunscreen on his cheeks. He could hear the pool, their summer spot, where Ben was waiting in the blue water and Peter was eager to jump in. But then May’s hands dropped away, the splashes of the pool went mute. Peter blinked his eyes and there Caroline was. No May. No Ben. His mind often did this, little tricks to escape.

“There you go,” She said, still smiling, hazel eyes scrunched with some empty reassurance.

“You got the internship today?” Beck asked, flashing Peter a usual skeptic glance.

Peter constantly wonders how this man passed the requirements for the foster program.

“Like every Friday,” Peter said, trying to restrain any bite to his bark. He readied himself to leave for school, backpack slung over his shoulder.

Beck nodded. “Enjoy yourself.” He said, but the words were vacant.

“Bye sweetie,” Caroline said, sickeningly sweet.

Peter liked her, really. But her persona was made of sugar glass. A brittle, sweet exterior that he didn’t want to see crack.

With a wave of his hand bidding goodbye, he was gone.

*

“Tell Mr. Stark I’m job hunting,” Ned said as the two left Midtown High after their 8 hour shift learning students.

Peter laughed, gave Ned a little push.

“I’m sure all he’d offer is a secretary job,” He said.

“Or a janitor,” MJ spoke, emerging from the throng of weekend-hungry students. Both Peter and Ned gave a nod to that.

“I really do need a job though,” Ned said, “I wanna save up for that Europe trip.”

The three rounded a corner and there was the unmistakable sleek Audi parked by the curb like every Friday.

“Same here,” Peter said.

“You have a job,” Ned said, nodding his head to the vehicle they were approaching.

“It’s really more of a volunteer service.”

MJ snorted at that.

They arrived at the car and Peter could see Happy tilting his glasses with an overly dramatic pointed look. Peter returned the theatrics by pressing his palms together in a prayer begging for 2 more minutes. Happy rolled his eyes, but Peter saw the smile that the man tried to hide by turning to face the wheel.

“Well, I’ll see y’all on Monday,” Peter said.

“Y’all?” –

“Monday?’” –

MJ and Ned unharmoniously dueted.

“Why not tomorrow?” Ned asked, a pinch of hurt in his tone, or maybe disappointment given that his posture slumped.

“The FPs still haven’t given me the okay yet,” Peter said with a shrug. It was all he could offer.

Ned let out a groan, looking to the sky for help.

“You’re 16, Peter,” Ned said.

“Why are they so needy?” MJ finished for him.

Peter shrugged off her words. MJ shook her head and he cracked open the car door.

“Ciao!” He said quickly, adding just for kicks, “And technically I’m not 16 just yet.”

Ned looked oddly fretful for a moment, clearly in deep thought while looking Peter over. It was a face usually reserved for Spiderman mishaps.

“Bye Peter,” He said, snapping back to himself, “Text me!”

MJ waved a loose wrist at him, either saying goodbye or casting a hex as he shut the door.

“Everything okay kid?” Happy asked, eyes meeting Peter’s through the rearview mirror.

“Duh,” Peter snarked harmlessly, “It’s Friday.”

*

“Hey FRIDAY,” Peter chirped, stepping into the common room of the compound.

“Good Afternoon, Peter,” FRIDAY greeted back.

Sometimes it was surreal to Peter how routine it was to walk into the Avengers compound and go work with Tony Stark on the Spiderman suit. Plain unreal. But it’s been going on for almost half a year now and he’s getting somewhat used to it.

“Boss is already in the lab,” Friday said.

Peter was already there, doors sliding open without a touch like in sci-fi films. Tony was revealed swiping through holographic blueprints one after the other.

“Hey kid,” He said, tossing a glance and signature smile over his shoulder. Not the billionaire celebrity smile, but the warm behind-the-scenes signature smile. It never failed to make Peter feel at home. A strangely dangerous sensation. He has a home. With Caroline and Beck. He can’t afford to let himself think of home as the thing he has here, but sometimes the thought nestles into his brain.

“I’ve been thinking all day, Mr. Stark,” Peter began, tossing his backpack onto a chair to pull out chicken scratch blueprints of his own.

“All day? Sure you’ve got enough brain power left to work?” Tony raised an eyebrow, amused with his own words.

Peter gave him a stare down, better known as the stink-eye that he mastered under May’s training before continued on with a soft laugh as Tony cracked another smile.

“Anyways, I was thinking about this new guy. You’ve seen him on the news, a sorcerer of sorts?” Peter said rolling his hands in the air for emphasis.

“I know the sorts,” Tony replied, thinking more of Stephen Strange than the fish-bowl head that was recently floating around New York.

“I was thinking we could talk to Dr. Strange about getting,” - Peter quieted his voice for the next part – “magic webs.” He shrunk behind a tool box knowing his proposal was a long shot. But as Pepper Potts, Happy and one Colonel Rhodes knew, Tony could be an easy egg to crack. You just need the right technique.

“Sounds terrible. And it took you _all_ day to think of that?”

Not so easy today.

“Hey, you were the one the other day that was all, ‘Peter you gotta be careful. Safety first. Here’s some taser webs’.” Peter put on a gruff Tony Stark impression that was nothing like the real deal.

“Magic webs,” Tony muttered to himself with a minute headshake.

“C’mon Mr. Stark, when have I ever had a bad idea?” Peter offered up his best angelic smile.

The cold glare in response reminded him that Tony could make a scrap book of his several bad ideas.

“My birthday is soon,” Peter tried again, and it was true, his birthday was a week or so away.

“Your point?” Tony shot back.

Peter sighed – heavier than normal to expose his defeat.

They worked for 3 hours after Peter’s fantastic idea was vetoed. The usual occurred, occasional banter and the satisfaction of building things. They would’ve worked longer if Peter’s stomach hadn’t been louder than Friday’s work playlist. Designing suits and remodeling machines is hard work, especially when your enhanced abilities practically give you two stomachs.

Tony offered to make dinner. He wasn’t good at it, but he liked the excuse to use his mother’s recipe box. Earlier on in the “internship”, Tony would just order in food and then one day Peter was talking about May’s cooking and how he missed how disgusting it was, and Tony proposed making something even worse to cheers to May’s memory. From there, Peter’s realized he loves bad cooking. He sits at the expansive kitchen island and listens to Tony curse at boiling water and unlabeled spices. The kitchen warms up and Peter gets that home feeling he shouldn’t get. Maybe he likes bad cooking because it’s reminiscent of May and Ben. Or maybe he just likes bad cooking because it’s Tony.

Peter blabbered about school as Tony placed a plate of spaghetti in front of him.

“Ned needs a job,” Peter said.

Tony snorted. “Aren’t you two 14?”

They had moved into the common room, sitting on the couch with dishes on the coffee table. Pepper was gone for a business trip and when the cat’s away, the mice play (or the mice have dinner on the couch instead of at the table).

“ _I’m_ going to be _16_.”

“Dooley noted, Birthday Pusher. Make a wish on your candles for Ned to get employed.”

Peter shook his head. “I’m wishing for something else.” His reply came with a linger of mystery but he shattered the illusion by mouthing ‘magic webs’ to Tony.

“Not gonna happen, kid.”

“You better watch out Mr. Stark, Sweet Sixteens are always the movie plots where the wishes come true.”

Tony rolled his eyes, just for theatrics like Happy does. “Thanks for the warning, kiddo.”

“You’re welcome,” Peter said through a mouthful of spaghetti.

After finishing dinner, Peter invited Tony to Midtown’s science fair on the upcoming Wednesday. He and Ned had been working on a project that Tony wasn’t even allowed to get a sneak peak of. Then, they watched an episode of Brooklyn 99. Peter still wasn’t sure how he had managed to get Tony to watch it – but the billionaire was now invested in it.

The evening grew dark faster than Peter wanted it to.

“Better get you home,” Tony said, eyeing the watch on his wrist.

This was Peter’s least favorite part of any week.

“Happy’s off the clock, so you’re stuck with me,” He added, rising to his feet with a lazy elegance.

“I don’t know if I can take anymore of you,” Peter said. “I’m gonna tell Happy I miss him.”

He whipped out his phone to fire-off one of his infamous emoji-ridden text messages (specifically for Happy only) to commit to the bit that Tony was only half paying attention to. But when Peter looked at his screen, it was lit up by text messages from Beck.

_[Where are you?]_

_[You’re out way too late, even for the internship]_

_-Missed call -_

_[Pick up the phone Peter]_

_[Come home ASAP]_

Peter’s face dropped, twisted by confusion and worry.

“What? Happy block your number?” Tony asked.

He was joking but when Peter looked at him, the kid could see genuine concern furrowing Tony’s brow.

“Yeah,” Peter said, a beat too late and under tempo.

Tony looked him up and down, the habitual ‘Where are you hurt?’ look from many occurrences of Spiderman-ing gone wrong.

“I’m good, Mr. Stark,” Peter defended, putting more pep into his step, “I just didn’t realize how late it was.”

Tony nodded with a skeptical eye but began to lead Peter out of the compound like normal. He was too uncertain to push anything. He couldn’t completely connect his sudden wariness to Peter’s expression-dip but Tony had a Spidersense of his own for Peter’s sake.

Peter meanwhile trailed behind Tony, typing out a quick text. No emojis or blabbing. Just:

_[On my way. I’m sorry.]_


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really minimal depiction of abuse in this chapter, just a warning.   
> Also this is kind of just a little short plot-moving chp.

_2_

Peter was mad, but not as mad as Beck. Beck was fuming for what felt like no reason at all.

“Why should we pay for your phone if you’re not even going to use it?” He spat.

Caroline was gone. Friday’s are her Girls’ Nights.

“If you listened to me at all, you would’ve payed more attention and _known_ where I was,” Peter fired back. He felt sick. “You could’ve contacted Mr. Stark.”

A laugh pushed out of Beck’s chest. “You think that asshole let me have his number?”

_Caroline has it,_ Peter wanted to say, and anger filled up his lungs. But instead his mind was taken aback. It was unusual for Beck to act like this. Sure, he and Caroline were an odd couple, but this was totally new behavior.

“Mr. Stark’s not an” – Peter stumbled with the next word, unsure if he should say it under Beck’s blazing stare – “asshole. He –“

“He _what_ , Peter?” Beck’s voice was full of hate and Peter didn’t know if it was for him or Tony Stark. “He takes care of you? Makes you feel like you’re doing good work with an internship? That’s just free labor. He doesn’t care.”

Unwelcomed chills slid down Peter’s back as he could hear the voice of Adrian Toomes say something similar.

“You know who cares, Pete? Me and my wife. We give you food, a bed, a _family!”_

Because Peter lost a bed. Lost his means of food. Lost his _family._ God, he missed Ben calling him Pete. His mind wanted for the scene around him to melt away so badly that it did. His memory slotted in Ben scolding him for going out late after he got the bite instead of the bizarre argument happening with Beck. Instead of hateful spewing, Peter heard Ben’s voice – stern but kind from worry.

“Hey,” Beck snapped his fingers at Peter like a child, “Are you listening to me?”

Peter felt it coming before Beck has even begun to raise his hand. His nerves set off like a lit match dropped back into the matchbox. He knew he couldn’t stop it despite having the strength of two Captain Americas. He had an identity to protect. He can’t dodge hits like a pro boxer when he’s supposed to be a 15 – soon to be 16 – year old nerd.

So the back of a hand smacked him across his cheek bone. The wedding band on Beck’s finger made the strike sting more than Peter thought it would. He staggered back a few steps, bumping into the back of the couch. He clutched the too-fancy upholstery chosen by Caroline for support with one hand while the other clutched his zygomatic. Even though he had seen it coming, he was still in shock. _How the fuck is this guy a foster parent?_

Beck stood with his open hand, no remorse. No shock. Nothing besides a slight look as if eagerly expecting Peter’s retaliation. Peter’s shock climbed multiple levels. For one, Beck slapped harder than expected. Like knock-out hard for a lot of other teenagers Peter’s size.

Peter watched Beck’s expression finally tune into an emotion, but it was still hard to read. The tension in the atmosphere was starting to fizzle out into something hollow.

“I – I’m uh, I’m sorry, Peter.” Beck said. He seemed unstable, externally and internally. “I think it’s best if you – if you go to your room.”

Peter didn’t need to be told twice. He walked quickly past Beck and towards the hallway.

“And Peter?” Peter stopped and reluctantly looked back at Beck. “Not a word to Caroline.” There was a threat hidden behind Beck’s words and Peter didn’t want to stick around to unravel it. He didn’t want to hear another word out of Beck’s mouth. 

He fled to his room, shut the door, and locked it for good measure. He stood there for a moment, trying to decide if he wanted to cry or shout and scream. His brain was fried and he felt frazzled from the surprise. The residual buzz of his spidersense made him jittery. All he really wanted to do was lie down and sleep all of it off. This wasn’t his usual situation. Muggings are. People like The Vulture are. Mysterio is. Hell, even aliens are. But what just happened is a situation in an entirely different realm.

He breathes hard for a moment, tenderly touching his cheek. He steps into some sweatpants and found the MIT crew neck Tony bought him after he had saved the plane. Sleep was hanging all around him as he curled up in bed, but he was restless thinking over and over again:

_What the hell?_  
What the hell?   
What the hell? 

*

The weekend passed quietly. Peter kept to himself. He was able to go to Ned’s place to finish up their science project and when Ned asked about the bruise on his cheek, Peter easily dismissed it as a slap-happy mugger he ran into on patrol. Monday brought Peter relief – school becoming a vacation compared to the house he left that morning.

*

“I don’t want to hear about it,” MJ groaned as Peter and Ned discussed their science project in a self-crafted cryptic way, “It makes me sad how nerdy you two are.” She had her head propped up in her hand, shoulder leaning into the white cafeteria wall.

“If you don’t want to hear about the Computerized Quantum Physics Musical Mayhem Project then you can sit somewhere else,” Ned said into his sandwich.

MJ looked at Ned with unimpressed disbelief. “That’s the name?”

“The working title,” Ned replied confidently.

“What does it even do?” MJ asked.

“Thought you didn’t want to hear about it,” Peter said with a grin, feeling just the slightest bit like Tony.

“I don’t.”

Ned offer the remaining fourth of his sandwich and bag of chips to Peter who had already eaten his meal but Peter declined. However, 6 hours later he was regretting his unknowing foolishness.

It was dinner time. Him, Beck, and Caroline at the table. Dinner was more or less routine despite the incident of Friday. On the outside, nothing had changed. Peter was good at putting Beck out of his mind. This dinner seemed like no exception, until Peter tried to dig into his usual plate of seconds.

“What are you doing?” Beck asked, fork hitting his plate as if demanding the room to go silent, and it did.

“What?” Peter said, genuinely confused as his hand froze in the air with a spoonful of rice.

“Haven’t you had enough?” Beck said, voice accusing.

“Beck,” Caroline said meekly, watching the scene with wide eyes.

“Carol, please,” Beck said off to the side before attacking Peter again, “I mean, I understand you are a growing kid but, Pete, this is ridiculous.”

Peter looked at the rice in front of him. There was so much there, and he was only halfway to satisfying his superhuman appetite.

“You’ve had enough.”

“Beck, what are you talking about?” Caroline whispered like the hiss of a teapot.

Beck shook his head, in control as always, and pointed at Peter with his fork.

“Put the rice back,” Beck said. “You can eat it tomorrow for lunch.”

That was final. Caroline trying to reign in Beck was like a mouse trying to conquer a lion. It made Peter feel horrible. He dumped the rice back in the bowl, not wanting to stoke the fire and risk Caroline getting burned.

Beck nodded, forking the rice on his own plate and resuming eating as if nothing odd had happened. Caroline flashed Peter a sad, apologetic look. But that was it. And dinner went on.

When Peter got in bed that night, his stomach protested. All he could think about was Ned’s sandwich and Tony’s bad cooking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Tony and Peter interaction to come in the next chapter, I promise


	3. 3

_3_

Tuesday passed by and Wednesday rolled around. Peter had become more excited about his science project than he had realized. At three ‘o clock, right before the school day was about to end and the fair was about to begin, Peter and Ned found themselves in the gym standing like true entrepreneurs – tall and proud – next to their Music Memory Machine (the official title).

The science fairs at Midtown were always packed, after all it is a STEM-based school. Ned’s parents strolled around. Peter met MJ’s mom, a woman ten times more empathetic than her daughter, Flash’s parents even came by praising everyone’s projects. But Beck and Caroline hadn’t shown up and halfway into the fair, Peter started getting nervous. He couldn’t tell if he was sad or relieved. Caroline would’ve liked the whole thing. She’d probably look at all the projects as if she’d never seen technology before, the way May would. May always walked science fairs in awe. Peter never could tell if she did it to make kids feel proud of their work or if she really found something spectacular about it. He tried to break himself away from the thought by people watching, but it just made him realize how much he wished someone was there for him.

“There’s still time, Peter,” Ned assured him.

Peter shrugged and instead focused on MJ’s booth across the isle, a robot that could draw what she drew – a perfect copy, that’s why she called it Copy Machine.

“She’s a lot better at naming than us,” Ned sighed, following Peter’s gaze. Then after gaining Peter’s attention, he looked him in the eyes and added, “Seriously Peter, they’ll be here. Just send them a text or something.”

“I don’t want to bother them,” Peter said nonchalantly.

What he really meant was that he didn’t want to provoke Beck. But to appease Ned’s worrisome expression, Peter fished his phone out of his backpack to shoot off a text. When the screen came to life, Peter saw 4 notifications blaring at him. 4 unread texts. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping they’d go away. He couldn’t do this again. He couldn’t stomach any words from Beck right now. After sending a silent prayer to Thor, he peaked at the messages. Instead of letting out a stressed sigh, Peter laughed at what he saw.

_[Your science fair is at 4, right?]  
[Shit, is it at 3?]  
[I’m coming ASAP]  
[Hope I don’t intimidate the other kids (You probably do that yourself, huh?)]  
[Are the front doors locked? To the school? Is there a special entrance I have to go through?]_

Peter texted a speedy reply, an uncontrollable smile grabbing at the corners of his mouth.

_[Aren’t you an award winning genius?]_

A minute later Tony Stark appeared in the flesh saying, “You don’t have to be so snarky over text, kid.”

“Oh, you must’ve figured out how to use the door,” Peter said, trying to act cool since Ned looked like he was going to spontaneously combust of surprise and joy.

Tony tucked his phone in his pocket and took of his sunglasses off in a classic move.

“I can’t believe Tony Stark is here,” Ned muttered, unsubtly to himself.

Peter nudged him with his elbow before saying to Tony, “Glad you could make it.” With a warm smile.

“Where’s Beck and Caroline?” Tony asked, looking around as if they’d appear out thin air next to a kid’s cooking robot or hologram.

Ned opened his mouth to respond, knowing Tony would rage with him about Beck and Caroline’s no-show. But Peter could talk faster.

“Running late,” He said.

Ned deflated, frustrated at his best friend.

Tony looked between them, unsure if this was a situation stemming from the treacherous depths of high school drama or something more before moving on.

“So,” He said clapping his hands together, “What’s this mystery machine all about?” gesturing to the Peter and Ned’s project with the sunglasses still in his hands.

“So there’s this Disney film called Meet the Robinson’s, right?” Peter began.

“I know of Meet the Robertson’s.” Tony replied.

Peter ignored him and continued on, “Ned here,” – Peter patted Ned’s arm – “and myself were watching it last month when we got our idea.”

They’d been practicing their pitch for an hour now. Every time someone wandered up to their booth, they kicked into gear like street performers trying to get some change thrown into their hat. They had it all mastered.

Ned took over the next part, “So in the movie, Lewis makes a machine that essentially televises memories, but that’s nearly impossible.”

Peter was impressed by Ned’s composure because Tony Stark’s presence was starting to attract a crowd.

“So instead of trying to make a machine that elicits visual memories, we decided to do something more along the lines of auditory memory.”

The sales pitch went on, the gist being that through computer programming and beginners quantum physics, the machine can play a song from a subjects memory using a chiming xylophone translation.

“Aright let’s see it then,” Tony said once the description was over, “as long as it won’t kill me.”

“We need you to sign a waver first,” Peter joked, earning a few chuckles from easily amused parents in the group that had gathered around the booth.

Peter handed Tony a band that he then placed on his head to secure electrodes to his temple. Some buttons were pressed by Ned and ten seconds later, ringing notes filled the silence that had been waiting. A few people gasped, some looked unimpressed, and some were in awe the way May would be.

Peter didn’t recognize the song. He didn’t think he would, but he also didn’t think his curiosity would be so possessive. He wanted to know what Tony’s mystery melody was. Some applause filled the space as Tony took off the headset, giving some crisp claps of his own, making Peter smile stupidly.

It wasn’t much of a surprise, but Peter and Ned placed first in the fair, earning a modest trophy and an award to be featured in a section of a WIRED article on science fair accomplishments. Tony was excited to get his picture with his victorious kids when the opportunity was offered. He figured the image might land in the Daily Bugle or the Mirror with some gaudy caption if Pepper couldn’t stop it first, but he didn’t care. Peter was glowing with joy and honestly Ned was too. Best science fair in Midtown history.

When it ended, inventions were packed up. People flooded out, leaving little behind. Ned was pulled away by his parents, barely fitting in a goodbye and MJ had sauntered off with her Copy Machine and her mom. Caroline and Beck never showed up and as Peter walked with Tony out of the high school, he could sense the man was fuming.

“They must’ve gotten held up,” Peter offered as a comfort more to Tony than himself.

“Did you hear from them?” Tony asked with a tight jaw.

“No,” Peter answered.

Tony didn’t say anything for a moment before asking, “Do you need a ride home?”

“If it’s not a big deal, I wouldn’t mind,” Peter said.

“If you said no, I’d still be giving you a ride home, kid,” Tony said, swinging the car fob around his finger.

Peter smiled. It was 5:30. There’d be traffic. Tony would get home late, but Peter was selfishly thankful that Tony wouldn’t care arriving at the compound after sunset. The usual small talk occupied the car ride over the radio background noise. During the drive, Peter couldn’t help but ask the burning question “So what was the song?”

He was sitting up in his seat, ready to slump back into disappointment if Tony didn’t spill. It was a pressuring tactic and Tony knew it too.

“Nothing of interest to you, wiz-kid,” He said.

Peter fell against the back of the seat, his pressuring tactic earning him a smack in the head by the headrest.

“I’d be a real wiz-kid if you let me have magic webs,” Peter huffed, a challenging smile crossing his face.

“Tough luck, kid. Anymore complaining and you’ll be walking home,” Tony warned but Peter knew there was no way in the entire galaxy Tony would ever let that happen.

“Sure thing, mom,” Peter replied.

“Treat your mom with some respect,” Tony said.

20 minutes later Peter was leaning against the car window as his apartment was approaching. He closed his eyes for a moment and absorbed the warmth in the car, rock music playing softly through the speakers.

“Okay kiddo,” – Peter could hear the car sliding up to the curb – “I’ll see you Friday.” The car came to a stop.

“As always,” Peter said, eyes now open as he unbuckled his seatbelt. “Thanks for the ride Mr. Stark!”

Peter was usually quick to hop out of the car, never wanting to take up too much of Tony’s time. But when he pushed the car door open and looked up at his building, he hesitated in his seat. His spidersense caught fire, as it does now when he comes home, the alerting buzz settling into his brain. The hesitation made Peter seem only a few degrees off his axis but Tony noticed.

“You okay?” He said, pulling Peter away from his worry for a split second.

“Yeah,” Peter said, but he sounded like someone taking a breath of air after being stuck underwater. His voice surprised himself.

“You sure?” Tony checked.

Peter pushed himself out of the car. “Yeah,” He said more confidently. “Sorry Mr. Stark, have a good night.” He flustered trying to act normal. His quick reflexes had him shutting the door but Tony’s voice hit him before he could.

“Peter.” The full first name was usually of rare occasion.

Peter reversed his action, opening the door wide. “Yes?”

Tony cleared his throat. “You did good today, kid.” The words came out a little uncertain but both Peter and Tony knew he meant it 100%.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark,” Peter said with a smile, something warm blooming in his chest.

He felt extra alone walking up the stairs to his apartment as Tony peeled away from the curb.

The warmth of the apartment wasn’t like the warmth in Tony’s car. It didn’t hug him and make him feel safe, it made him sweat. It tricked his nerves. Caroline greeted him from the kitchen where she was fetching a homemade lasagna from the oven. Once everyone was settled at the table, Peter broke the good news to the two foster parents about the win.

Caroline was too horrified to congratulate him. “Peter, I’m so sorry sweetie! I completely forgot. I got swept up with work!” She sputtered as she handed Peter his 1-time single serving of lasagna. “Beck why didn’t you remind me?”

“Forgot too, sorry Pete,” Beck said casually, but something in his eyes said he hadn’t.

Peter bit his tongue and tried to focus on how happy he’d felt an hour or two earlier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if these seem a little short. Thanks for reading!


	4. 4

_4_

Thursday night Peter didn’t bother touching the suit. He couldn’t bring himself to sneak out and swing around New York – the energy to do so was nonexistent and his morale was experiencing a sharp decline. With an empty stomach and the constant badgering of his spidersense, Peter wasn’t as much Peter as he was a husk of Peter. Laying in bed that night, untouched homework sprawled out on his desk and mask clutched in hand, he realized he hadn’t been out much at all in the past week. At first when everything with Beck came crashing down, Peter surged in his Spider-manning. But last weekend the rush to get out of the apartment had flittered out into only escapades lasting an hour.

He hated it, but at the same time he just couldn’t bring himself to put on the mask.

At school, Ned noticed how drained he was. He tried to pry into it but Peter’s Guy in the Chair lacked the skills of MJ, namely intimidation. Peter blew any accusations from Ned off – he put too much energy into the science fair, he was stressed for next week’s algebra test, he didn’t get enough sleep. 

Friday managed to pour some life into Peter’s soul. He was excited to go to the lab, even if he had to come home by 8:30 thanks to a new random rule established by Beck. Usually he stayed until 10 or 11 and of course he was mad about it but he didn’t want to draw attention to the problem, so after arriving at the Compound he casually said to Tony: “Guess you aren’t the only one who likes to set up curfews.”

Tony flashed him a quizzical look. They were gearing up to take apart an old Iron Man suit just for kicks. Tony had noticed way Peter looked defeated today and decided they’d take it easy in the lab.

“I’ve gotta be home by 8:30.”

“Are you a nine-year-old?” Tony remarked and Peter was content with the unspoken agreement that this curfew was stupid.

“Apparently,” Peter huffed, trying not to dwell on it. He wasn’t going to let Beck ruin his time with Tony.

Peter just wanted to play it cool, let the topic of the time sanction slip into the past. Tony on the other hand oddly wasn’t playing it cool. Peter could easily see how bothered Tony was about how a teenager was sentenced to an 8:30 bedtime on a weekend. The words ‘how fucking bizarre’ were on the tip of Tony’s tongue.

“It’s no biggie,” Peter offered. “I think he just wants to make sure I’m getting school work done.”

Truthfully, Beck had offered no reason to the time constraint and Peter didn’t risk questioning it. Tony looked at Peter for a moment, scanning his face, assessing him the habitual way he always did. A million things to say rolled through his brain but instead of telling Peter he was too smart to need to worry about school work or that he frankly didn’t like Beck, Tony just settled on saying:

“We’ll just have to eat dinner early then.” And there was no further comment on the topic.

Peter felt alive at the thought of having a meal where he could overeat to his heart’s content. Tony tended to take on the classic grandmother role, always trying to force seconds onto Peter’s plate.

They worked in the lab for an hour or two. Tony’s work playlist pumped rock music through the workspace, conversations occasionally taking over the sound.

“So are you excited for Sunday?” Tony asked at some point.

“Sunday?” Peter said, taking a screwdriver to the arm of the Iron Man suit, prying the plating apart.

Tony paused what he was doing, flicking a quick glance at the kid. “Your birthday?” He said, somewhat alarmed by the apparent memory loss. It certainly took an uncomfortable beat of time to pass before the words registered in Peter’s brain. “You know? Sweet 16 and all that junk? Magic webs and cake and presents.” Tony waved his hand around as if the action would jumpstart Peter.

“Did you just admit to getting me magic webs?” Peter asked, ignoring the tremble behind his ribs at the realization he’d nearly forgotten his own birthday. Somehow the excitement for the day wasn’t there anymore. 

“That’s never happening,” Tony said, reluctantly letting the moment go on as if nothing weird had happened.

“I know you hate surprises so I’m going to do the right thing and let you know that Caroline is having a surprise birthday dinner for you,” Tony said.

Peter lifted an eyebrow, “And you know this because?”

“I’m invited. So is Ned and your scary friend,” Tony said.

Peter felt a smile spreading on his face.

“Thanks for the heads up.” He laughed. It’s true that he didn’t fancy surprises. Mostly because he was terrible at reacting. One time Ben tried to surprise him with tickets for Disneyland and all Peter could manage to say was “okay” because his brain needed to prepare for what Disneyland actually entailed.

Tony hated surprises too. He called them the bad jump scares of real life.

They fell back into tinkering and worked until 6:00, the earliest they had ever closed shop. All Peter could do was appreciate that Tony didn’t resurrect the conversation of the untimely curfew. Instead, Tony cooked dinner – a mediocre first attempt at stir fry – and gave his review on the Star Wars prequels.

“I can’t believe you watched without me,” Peter laughed through a bite of veggies.

Tony was leaning against the sink holding his plate while Peter was on his usual perch at the kitchen island. He might as well have his named carved into the bar stool. Everything happens in that spot – joking around while Tony tries to cook, getting lectured for questionable Spider-manning choices, homework help, the list goes on.

“Pep’s still out of town and you’re only here on the weekends,” Tony shrugged, “How else was I supposed to stay entertained?”

“Don’t you run a company?” Peter questioned. He was feeling happy, a warm feeling taking over his chest.

Tony shook his head with a sharp smile, “That’s what Pepper’s for.”

“Okay, firstly, she’d end you if she heard you say that. And secondly, you just spend your time watching bad trilogies by yourself?” Peter said, a cheeky grin slapped on his face.

“Contrary to popular belief, instead of manning Stark Industries, I’m usually busy keeping an eye on a certain Spider-kid.”

Peter laughed a little, thinking about the truth behind the words. Tony’s hands were constantly full, juggling between the vigilantism of Spider-Man and the mundane events of Peter Parker’s life. He never understood how Tony put up with it.

Tony set down his plate to grab the pan of stir fry off the stove to push some more onto Peter’s plate.

“And I’ve happened to have some extra free time this week since you haven’t been punching in your usual hours.” He left the statement open, an invitation for Peter to comment.

Something suddenly struck Peter’s nerves. He hadn’t even considered this conversation happening. He should’ve expected it – Tony’s always monitoring the time he puts into the suit. It’s typical of him to work overtime protecting Queens.

“School’s been getting hectic,” Peter lied, wishing it was the truth.

*

Saturday came and went. Peter tried to put some time in the suit for Tony’s sake. He never liked knowing Tony was worrying about him. At the same time however, he relished in Tony’s worry. It’s always how he knew Tony cared.

That night when Peter crawled back in through his window, he tucked himself into bed and thought about the birthday dinner awaiting him tomorrow. He felt like something big was going to happen. Putting Beck, Caroline, Ned, MJ, and Tony in a room together seemed like a recipe for some grand event. Peter couldn’t help imagining Ned enacting MJ to sleuth out the apartment to figure out how life was inside of it. He couldn’t stop picturing MJ cracking the code and reporting everything to Ned who would then deliver the information to Tony like a responsible kid should. He couldn’t help imagining Tony stepping foot in the apartment and immediately stepping right back out, taking Peter with him.

*

The dinner was ten times more enjoyable than Peter expected it to be. Caroline had put together cute decorations that May would have approved of. The tense atmosphere usually consuming the home felt a little more relaxed. There was a slight comfort in the air. Maybe it was because Ned kept making him laugh, maybe it was how he couldn’t stop thinking about how cute MJ looked with a striped party hat on, or maybe it was that Tony was here and Beck was missing, apparently caught up at work… on a Sunday.

They were all gathered around the kitchen table. Caroline set a cake down in front of Peter after finishing her tenth attempt at calling Beck to come home and Peter could care less if the man made or not. MJ and Ned took a stance on either side of him. Across from him, Tony was at the ready with a lighter.

Taking in the scene around him, Peter decided it was the happiest moment he’d ever have in the apartment. He looked at Caroline’s face, longing for it to be May’s soft smile and kind eyes, and he wished Ben was with him at the table. But having Tony, Ned, and MJ there was enough.

“Blow these candles out before the frosting turns into wax,” Tony said.

Peter’s eyes fell to the cake, realizing it was all lit up. The last notes of Happy Birthday still chimed in the air. If things were normal, Peter would grin ear to ear and blow the candles out without any thought at all. As much as he joked about it, he had never really believed in making wishes on candles. But this time he focused on the 16 flickering flames and conjured up a wish he’d been trying to deny he wanted for a while.

He felt Tony’s hand fall onto his shoulder – a congratulations for making it to the big 1-6 and that warm feeling spread in his chest again. He pulled in a breath.

_I wish I lived with Tony._

And blew out the candles.

The rest of the evening flew by. Ned and MJ left around 8:00 and 10 minutes later Tony was reading to leave just as Beck arrived. The atmosphere immediately stiffened. Peter’s heartbeat uncomfortably picked up speed as his spidersense prodded at his nerves.

Beck greeted Tony with a gruff “hello”, gave Caroline a kiss on the cheek, and told Peter a loose happy birthday before slipping out of sight into the hallway. He seemed exhausted and Peter was sure that would be the excuse Caroline would settle on later. Peter pushed Beck out of his mind. He locked his attention onto Tony standing in the door frame instead.

“I’ll see you Friday, kid,” Tony said, tousling Peter’s hair with a rough hand.

Peter smiled at him and suddenly he was choking on a lump in his throat. He couldn’t bear to see Tony go even though he’d see him again in a couple days.

In classic Peter Parker fashion, Peter lurched forward and grabbed Tony in a hug. It was normal for Peter to give out hugs, but this time he gripped Tony tighter than he ever had before. Half his mind worried that he’d crack one of Tony’s ribs and the other half worried about Tony disappearing.

Tony was still adapting to the consistent hugs from Peter. He never felt prepared to hug anybody, but he never failed to wrap his arms around the kid’s shoulders, securing him in a warm hold.

Peter didn’t realize how strongly he had secretly hoped when Tony came over, he would have sleuthed everything out. He’d have taken one look at Beck and everything that’s happened in the apartment would be exposed. And then he’d rush Peter right out of there.

In reality, Tony was leaving without him. Because the idea of leaving with Tony was just a fantasy – a hopeless figment of the imagination, a wish on 16 sticks of wax.

Tony gave Peter a squeeze before letting go.

“C’mon kid, you’ll manage without me,” He joked softly, making Peter’s heart fall apart in his chest.

“I just think you’re hug deprived,” Peter said in as casual a tone as he could manage, wrangling his breath to keep it steady.

The second Tony was gone, the humble atmosphere of the evening was sucked away. Peter went to bed after giving Caroline a big thank you and bidding a bitter goodnight to Beck.

Safe in bed, the heaviness of his wish pressed down on his chest and he couldn’t help but cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized I don't have creative chapter titles, but I feel like it's too late to change them now haha. Also thanks for reading!


	5. 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This gets kind of sad, fair warning?

_5_

It was past curfew. His real curfew. Tony’s 2am cutoff for patrolling. Of course Peter wasn’t really patrolling. He hadn’t for four days. Adding on to his already vanquished desire to swing around, even with the fishbowl guy still reeking occasional havoc, Beck had caught Peter sneaking out at 10 ‘o clock Monday. Luckily Peter had dawned sweats over his suit and Beck was blind to the red and blue peeking from the edges of his sleeves. However, the idea of a runaway teen was enough for Caroline to agree with Beck to bar Peter’s windows. He’s been stuck since. Never able to escape his damned “home”, patrolling had slipped away. He managed to sneak out the front door Tuesday and climb back in through the bathroom window, but the motivation to sling webs was taken over by the relief of just being out of the apartment.

Tonight, Peter had managed to get out, now crouched on top of an old-architecture styled baby sky rise on the outskirts of Queens, deeper into the Big City. He ate up the solitude like it was a good meal and listened to the AM traffic down below. The night was overcast, a frigid wind was playing beneath the light-polluted clouds. He hugged his arms close to his body, not bothering to ask Karen to turn on the suit heater. He didn’t want to talk right now. He just needed a moment - a blip in time to be alone and far away from his foster family. He needed to figure out why in particular tonight he was so overwhelmed. He felt trapped – constantly moving with the heavy feeling in his chest that never left after his birthday dinner. He could only place the feeling as despair.

If he really wanted to, he could run away. But what if he left, and somehow some other kid landed in his spot? Plus, he’s never been someone who turns away from danger. But what do you do when the danger is on such a close level? When it’s the person who is supposed to take care of you?

It made Peter so sick and scared. He knew deep down that his logic was skewed. But a genuine worry in his mind was that if he didn’t keep this train-wreck going, it would be a problem for a kid who couldn’t handle it.

“Incoming call from Tony Stark,” Karen said quietly, as if knowing she might startle him.

“Decline,” Peter said flatly, voice nearly non-existent.

He knew that would mean Tony was now on his way. It was 2:10am. Peter should’ve feel bad about keeping Tony awake, but he was actually happy about it. Maybe it was his subconscious’ plan all along to bring Tony to him. He waited, frozen in one position, blending in perfectly with the gargoyles lining the top ledges of the building.

It wasn’t long before the Iron Man suit touched down, nano tech shrinking up the armor, leaving just Tony with a concerned expression on his tired face. “What’s up, kid?” He cut right to the chase. No one liners this time or half-way funny quips. He wasn’t mad Peter was out late or anything like that. It was clear he knew something was wrong. That something’s _been_ wrong. 

Peter shrugged, mouth dry without words. He didn’t realize how close to the edge he was until Tony perched next to him. He didn’t like their risky seats and Tony didn’t like them either.

“Let’s sit back a bit, yeah?” Tony said.

Peter could feel Tony’s hand lightly fall onto his back. Peter sunk into his touch and the two of them inched away from the edge until there was a foot of stone in front of them before the ten-story plunge to the sidewalk. Peter’s mask was off. He had wanted to take in fresh air at a higher than usual altitude. But now that Tony was next to him, he wished it was back on. He knew Tony could read his expressions like a picture book.

“What’s going on, Peter?” Tony asked carefully. “What’s wrong?”

Tony didn’t mention the fact he knew Peter hadn’t gone on _a real_ patrol all week. He didn’t mention the fact that he noticed how close Peter had been to the edge, how Peter didn’t even bother turning on the suit heater. Tony didn’t mention all the worry eating up his thoughts. He didn’t say a word about how his heart was about to beat right out of his chest. He didn’t say a word about how much he cared about Peter and how he had never seen the kid like this before.

Peter still didn’t say anything, head still swimming in the misery of the apartment he lives in. He thought about his birthday wish and tried to wish harder to make it come true.

“Tony,” Peter leaned against him and something wrenched at Tony’s heart hearing his name come out of the kid’ s mouth. Peter took a moment to swallow down a knot tightening in his throat. His eyes were getting misty. He suddenly realized how tired he was as he pressed his head against Tony’s shoulder. Tony’s arm pulled him in close and Peter felt like he could fall apart right there. “Can I stay at the Compound tonight?”

He just needed Tony right now. He needed a place he felt truly safe, truly at home. He knew he’d have hell to pay tomorrow, but he’ll fabricate an extravagant lie to cover for Tony, something about leaving in the night to play a new video game with Ned and then falling asleep there.

“Of course, kid,” Tony said, forced to reconcile with the fact tonight was not the time to try and get questions answered.

Tony found a way to get them both back to Compound without flying. They reached their destination around 3am. Tony lead Peter to a vacant room in the Avengers wing (most were empty, but this one had always been set aside for Peter. Technically it was Peter’s room, he’d already stayed there a couple times). Peter sat himself down on the bed while Tony went rooting around for something comfortable for the kid to change into. He managed to find an old crew neck of Steve’s that must’ve gotten lost in the laundry a while ago and paired it with some anonymous sweatpants.

“You gonna go to sleep?” Tony asked from the doorway.

Peter looked down at the clothes in front of him. His fingers traced along the word Brooklyn stitched across the neatly folded crew neck. Peter wasn’t sure if he’d be able to sleep. Beck was on his mind, the restraints on his life were on his mind, the fact that he’d been letting Mysterio run around was on his mind.

“Dunno,” He said quietly.

“Well come to the kitchen if you’re feeling restless,” Tony said, patting his hand against the door frame before slipping away.

Peter changed into the lent clothes. They were oversized but cozy. He looked around the room, taking in the soft toned walls, the fluffy white comforter, the Spiderman pillow Tony had jokingly got for the bed placed next to a death star pillow. After settling into the familiarity, Peter walked the corridors to the kitchen. Tony was there, tending to a pot on the stove. Two white mugs were conspicuously placed on the island.

Peter took his usual spot on the barstool and eyed down the mugs, absentmindedly starting to speak.

“You know they have these mugs you can draw on with a magic marker,” He said, grabbing the handle of one of the coffee cups and pulling it to him. He examined it even though it was bare and plain. “You can doodle whatever you want on them and then you bake them, and when you’re done you’ve designed your own mug.” He didn’t notice Tony looking over his shoulder at him. “May and Ben made them with me once. We each decorated a mug for each other. It was kind of ridiculous.” He let out quiet laugh, his mind getting tied up in the strings of memory.

Tony didn’t say anything, he knew he just needed to let Peter process. After a minute, Tony came over to the island. He brought two packets of Swiss Miss with him, tossing one to Peter. A smile ghosted Peter’s face. Tony raised his packet in the air and Peter followed suit, sharing a hot chocolate cheers before tearing open the packets and dumping them into their respective mugs. Tony retrieved the pot on the stove and poured hot milk into the cups. He pulled open a drawer and gave Peter a spoon.

“So this is your trick for a restless night?” Peter asked as he stirred the drink.

“Not mine,” Tony said, “My usual ‘trick’ is pulling an all-nighter in the lab. Pepper hates it.”

Peter watched a look of fondness pass over Tony’s face at the thought of Pepper.

“This,” Tony gestured down to the hot chocolate, “was my mother’s trick for a restless night.”

“Your mom was a genius,” Peter said, setting the spoon down on the granite, a warm cup of hot chocolate now ready.

Tony didn’t confirm or deny. Peter was fine with the silence. If quiet ever found Peter and Tony, it was always comfortable. With out any exchange of words, Tony drifted off to the couch in the common room and Peter followed. They sat down. Tony found a blanket and threw it over Peter’s shoulders. Peter set down his mug and tightened the soft blanket around him. He snuck a glance at Tony and could tell he was thinking. Beyond thinking, he was planning. He was structuring the next pieces of conversation to come. Peter waited, sipping hot chocolate to pass the time.

“Are you still curious about that song?” Tony asked.

It took Peter’s sluggish brain a second to connect the dots to the Musical Memory Machine.

“Of course. I was already sleuthing it out,” He said.

“Sure you were,” Tony said in the tone parents use when their toddler claims they’ve found a mystical beast in their sandbox. He continued on as normal, “My mother used to sing it to me on the nights she was around. I don’t know if it’s a real song or something she made up on the spot. No matter what, it never failed to put me to sleep.”

“You’re not going to sing to me, are you?” Peter joked.

“Definitely not,” Tony said with half a smile.

“Did you see her often?” Peter asked, curiosity percolating in his sleepy mind.

Tony looked at Peter while he decided on what to say next. Quite frankly he wasn’t sure what to say. He’s not one to shy away from speaking on the fly but this moment was different. This moment was important. He took in the sight of Peter tired and teary-eyed and it was one of those things that made Tony really look at his position in Peter’s life. He had a lot of responsibility for the kid and no matter how many years pass him by, responsibility is something he felt like he always screwed up.

“She tried,” He finally answered, his mother’s face slipping into the forefront of his mind, “I think she really tried to be around, but most of the time she wasn’t.”

“That’s sad,” Peter said quietly, as if the two words were just for himself.

“I suppose,” Tony replied. “Her parenting skills fluctuated. One moment she’d be all hot chocolate and lullabies, always saying ‘I love you’. In another moment she’d be vacant, forgetting to take me to appointments, busy traveling and all that jazz.”

Peter clutched his mug sensing that Tony was trying to make a point.

“But I always knew she cared about me.” Peter braved to look Tony in the eyes. “That’s the most important part of a parent, you know? They care about you, they love you.” Peter’s throat felt tight again and his eyes fell back onto his hot chocolate.

“Yeah,” Peter agreed, May and Ben on the brain. Tony on the brain. But not Caroline and not Beck and that was Tony’s point.

He could tell Tony was trying to get some truth out of him, confessions about what’s been going on at home. But Peter was truly too tired to unload all that baggage at 3:35am. He knew Tony wasn’t going to push, at least not right now. So he let his mug rest on the table, leaned into Tony’s side again like he did on the roof, and tried not to cry. He was so exhausted. Tony put an arm around him and he closed his eyes.

Sleep finally swept over him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to Rosa312 for correctly guessing that the song was related to Tony's mom!   
> Also up until this point, all my chapters have been prewritten - I've just been editing them up a bit. Now I'm back to writing them as I go so my updates might get a little more sparse. I'm also heading into my dead week so bare with me pls!   
> As always, thanks for reading!


	6. 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while and although this chapter is a bit short, I'm happy to be posting it!  
> Hope you guys like it - things are starting to heat up.

_6_

When Peter woke up, he was no longer curled up on the couch, but instead found himself swaddled in the comforter of his bed. He wanted to stay asleep, but the clock perched on the nightstand was projecting 9:22am and any grogginess around him evaporated at the thought of school.

“I’m late!” Peter shot up and snatched his phone. The moment felt mundane, a teenager who slept in on a school day, but then Peter remembered that his situation was anything but that.

He wanted to throw his phone away before even looking at it.

There were three anxious messages from Caroline and a fine collection of angry texts from Beck. Peter didn’t bother reading the ones he had sent. He wallowed for a moment in a suffocating pool of dread before making a series of decisions. First, he crafted a response only to Caroline to ease her worries. He stuck with the bullshit excuse that had formed in his mind last night – sneaking out to hang out with Ned. He could care less if it was believable or not.

Then, he sat up further, swung his legs off the side of the bed, and took a moment just to breathe. His mind was so heavy with thoughts and options, he couldn’t believe his neck could support the weight.

His next decision was to figure out if he was going to tell Tony today or not. He could skip school, unload everything – incriminate Beck for his shitty treatment and reveal the hollow household at the apartment – then hope he’d never have to go back and deal with the disruption of another relocation. But there was another option building up in his brain. One that spurred from a sense of invincibility all the care that radiated off of Tony last night had given him. He could go to school and feel normal for a moment, go back to the apartment, pack a bag, and tell Caroline everything in case she was at risk of Beck’s wrath, and then tell Tony. He knew there was a layer of stupidity in that plan – why go back when he was so close to a sort of salvation from the hell of his life with Beck and Caroline?

But two things plagued his mind that made the latter option seem better. One was that he couldn’t shake off a fear for Caroline. What if Peter not coming home lit a fuse in Beck and the resulting fire burned her down? And second, he couldn’t stop envisioning Ben’s suitcase tucked under his bed, a retro hardcase with locks along the seam of the two halves. The initials B.P. were monogrammed in a center patch beneath the handle. Its all Peter had left of Ben. And inside the case was all he had left of May – her glasses safely put in their carrying case. They were the only two items left that could truly ground him to his aunt and uncle and he was willing to risk anything to ensure he could get them. He couldn’t bare the idea of them getting left behind.

So, Peter made a final bold and brash decision. He was going to play today off as normal. Tony was going to send him to school, he’d go home and pack a small bag in Ben’s suitcase, Caroline would come home within 20 minutes and Peter could explain what he was doing, give her a bit of a warning (she wouldn’t have the heart to force him to stay) and then he’d leave. Tony could come pick him up or he could take the subway to the last stop and walk to the compound. Hell, he’d even stay with Ned for a night. All he could know for sure was that he was holding onto the hope that today was the day he was leaving the apartment for good. What the next steps after that would be, he was unsure of.

With his brain finally letting his thoughts settle like a cloud of dust sinking to the floor, Peter hopped out of bed. Tony had left another set of clothes on the dresser in Peter’s room, a t-shirt and jeans that looked a size too big. Peter changed into them, keeping on the Brooklyn crewneck because it kept him comfortable despite the rush of nerves wracking his body from head to toe.

“Morning, kid,” Tony said as Peter walked into the common room.

The man was on the couch, a leg tucked under him and a tablet in his hand. The image felt parallel to the memories in Peter’s brain of Ben sitting at the kitchen table in the mornings, reading that day’s newspaper. The familiarity of the scene in front of him calmed his frazzled mind.

He offered Tony a lazy smile and plopped down next to him.

“I’m like super late school,” Peter huffed, looking to Tony for his opinion on the matter.

“I’ll cover you for playing hooky if you want me to,” Tony said, glancing up from whatever work he was doing on the tablet, “I used to do it all the time.”

“Didn’t you once say to me not to do as you do?” Peter questioned.

“No, I’m pretty sure I said don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Tony answered.

Peter knew that wasn’t the advice he was given but he let the moment continue on.

“Well I would prefer not to miss class,” He said.

“Of course you wouldn’t,” Tony sighed.

If things weren’t off kilter, the comment would’ve seemed like a disappointed remark at Peter’s lack of desire to be a rule-breaker. But he could tell it was really disappointment from Tony at the realization that he wouldn’t be sitting Peter down today to talk over his suspicions that the kid’s been struggling.

“Plus,” Peter added to try and ease Tony’s conscience, “Ned might pass away without me there. We’ve got Spanish test today.”

“Well, we can’t be putting Ned’s life on the line,” Tony said, rising to his feet. “Want me or Happy to take you to school?”

Peter laughed a little, “I’d much rather have Happy take me.”

“You’ve wounded me,” Tony said, completely unwounded by the joke, as he went into the kitchen to whip up a quick breakfast before sending Peter off.

*

The unintentional half day of school flew by. Peter was antsy the whole time. He was sure he flunked the Spanish test that he did actually have. And he was also sure that his demeanor was driving Ned and MJ crazy, but he held himself together and didn’t buckle under their concerned gazes.

Part of him considered giving a heads up to Ned. Wasn’t that the kind of thing you were supposed to do if you knew you were about to throw yourself into a precarious situation? Tell someone? But he also didn’t want part of his anxiety to fall onto Ned’s shoulders and he didn’t want Ned blowing the whole thing either.

When the last bell of the day rang, Peter simply bid Ned goodbye with a “see ya tomorrow” and swiftly made his way to the apartment before Ned or MJ could interrogate him like he knew they’d been wanting to the whole day.

On the way home, walking through the bustling streets of Queens, he went over multiple scripts of what he was going to say to Caroline _. Your husband is crazy so I’m leaving, and you probably should too_ , was the main message of all of them. He figured he had nothing to lose to truly speak his mind, so whatever came out in the moment is what he decided he would settle on.

The apartment was empty as expected when he arrived.

He ran to his room and retrieved Ben’s suitcase from under the bed. He started packing at a well-timed pace. One that would have him ready to be out the door when Caroline should be getting home, his hope to just cross paths with her. He wanted to appear as determined as possible so she wouldn’t beg him to stay.

It was just a few days clothes and some other necessities that made it into the suitcase. Peter’s brain had locked into a _go, go, go,_ kind of mindset. He was so focused as closed the suitcase, finally done gathering all he needed, that he didn’t hear the front door open. He barely had time to register that someone had come in and was walking towards his room as the locks of the suitcase clicked in place.

His spider-sense flared up a split-second too late to allow him to comprehend the intrusion happening. By the time he listened to his own sixth sense, the person was already pushing open his door. He pointlessly hoped to see Caroline poke her head in but he knew it wasn’t her. 

“Going somewhere, Pete?”

Peter felt a chill slip down his spine as he straightened up to meet Beck’s gaze. He expected something like rage or fury to paint the man’s face but instead his expression was uncomfortably vacant. As if he didn’t want Peter to guess his next move, he was sporting a poker face.

Peter’s spider-sense was the most alert it had ever been. It kept pricking at his skin with sharp pulses saying _danger, danger, danger_.

He put on his own poker face, pinning Beck down with an unassuming but steely gaze. He cleared his throat and then spoke.

“It’s Friday,” he said in a flat tone, “I’m going to Ned’s.”

He moved nonchalantly to his desk, waiting for Beck’s response. By the severity his jumping nerves, he could tell something dangerous was about to happen – something worthy enough to make him wish he was shrouded in the Spider-Man suit. Beck’s silence only added to a growing tension. The pause happening between being caught red-handed by the man he was trying to get away from and the impending sense that whatever was going to happen next was going to be dangerous was stretching out too long.

Peter pulled open his desk drawer, trying to look like he was searching for a notebook. Really, he was trying to slip two busted web shooters onto his wrists. They were old, and the webbing in them was less than a quarter full, but he needed something to feel secure. Anything.

He shot a nervous glance to Beck who was still staring him down like a stone statue in the door frame and he cleared his throat again as if it could divert Beck’s attention to something or somewhere else.

He had his hand wrapped around the band of one of the web shooters but before he could get it onto his wrist, Beck uttered four words that made him freeze in place, blood running cold.

“Not so fast, Spider-Man,” he said.

Peter peered up from his position at the desk, hands unwelcomingly beginning to shake.

Beck’s stone expression had cracked into a sickening grin. There was a wild look in his eyes, something almost primal.

“What?” Peter immediately tried to play dumb as if it was a survival instinct.

But Beck just shook his head as a cloud of green smoke started to form around the fist at his side and suddenly Peter realized the danger that his senses were warning him about.

*

Peter had been gone an hour when Tony decided, as a responsible adult, he could no longer wait for Peter to confirm the hunches he had about what the kid had been dealing with lately. The homelife was clearly unstable and it all seemed generally off.

So, Tony took it upon himself to do some research. He didn’t know why he hadn’t bothered looking up Beck and Caroline before, or at least why he hadn’t peeked beyond their foster care records. Sure, they had high legitimacy – the surface level details of their background checks were normal, perfect even. But a little extra snooping never hurt.

Talking with Friday, he started uncovering the ordinary details. Caroline was a kindergarten teacher. Beck had an office job at Oscorp. The couple has been married for seven years and had fostered two kids before Peter. Any records of statements from friends and family of the two were full to the brim of positive remarks.

But Tony knew how to dig deeper than most people and as he did, the charm of the couple disappeared. He started to pry apart the lies surrounding them. His heart nearly dropped out of his chest when he made the first discovery. Swiping through background checks and newspaper articles Friday supplied to him, following reference after reference, Tony stopped on a mugshot of a woman named Deanne Maier. She had the same face as Caroline – she was Caroline. According to the report attached to the image, she got mixed up in a stint of crime after becoming indebted to a man named Quentin Beck.

It took one question to Friday for every file with Quentin Beck’s name in it to light up Tony’s screens.

Image after image popped up. A Stark Industries Level 1 engineer employee ID was at the forefront of it all. It was an employee he’d never met. He’d never even seen him before, but he certainly had now. Beck’s face was on the left side of the badge, crystal clear.

Next to Beck’s – Quentin Beck’s – ID badge was a file Friday had retrieved from SHIELD (Tony had hacked into their classified servers ages ago). The file was a beta report done by an agent speculating the identity of New York’s most recent super-powered terror: Mysterio.

Tony felt his limbs go numb at the realization. He leaned back from the sudden weakness and wondered how he could be so foolish. How could he let Peter be stuck with someone so dangerous and not know?

Quentin Beck was the man behind Mysterio and somehow he had lied his way into the foster care world to create one of the most inconspicuous aliases ever. No one would ever suspect and happily married man, on a mission to provide a home for abandoned kids, to be a super-powered psychopath.

Tony processed all the information for a moment. He had to let it sink in before he could jumpstart his brain into thinking again. And when it did, the first thought that sprung into his mind was that Peter Parker was in grave danger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I have one more chapter after this! I'm very excited to finish this fic up! It'll be the first time I've actually completed one on here.  
> Also ignore the extra note - it was one I posted on the first chapter of this and for some reason it won't go away, rip.   
> As always, thanks for reading!


	7. 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last one! It's a bit long and gets pretty wild, so buckle up. Also I honestly I wasn't expecting the ending to go down the way it did but I think I'm happy with how it turned out so I hope you enjoy!

_7_

It dawned at Peter at once why there was a never-ending buzz of his spider-sense, why there was an unsettling atmosphere Beck always carried about him, why the treatment Peter had been receiving over the past couple of weeks had been so terrible. It all came together in one frightful moment as he stared at Beck in the threshold of his doorway with, green smoke curling around his fist.

“You’re Mysterio,” The words fell out of Peter’s mouth before he could stop them.

The realization pushed his heart into his throat. His nerves caught fire.

He thought about his first encounter with the villain, a quick battle on the top of a bank building. All Mysterio had wielded at Peter were blasts of green energy and Peter easily bested him in the match. Overall Mysterio hadn’t posed much of a threat. But now Peter’s view on the matter completely flipped. Mysterio meant Beck and Beck meant danger.

“I was hoping to do some grand reveal,” Beck said, taking a step closer to Peter, “But when you went to Stark’s yesterday I realized I’d have to cut my performance short.”

His voice was eerily calm, unphased. A sick, arrogant smile conjured up on his face.

“You’re a smart kid, Peter,” He said, “but you’re also incredibly _stupid._ You never figured me out, but I pinned you for Spider-Man within the first weekend you were here. You aren’t very subtle at sneaking out at night to do your little vigilante expeditions.”

He let out a laugh.

“The stars couldn’t have aligned more perfectly for me.”

He took another step closer.

Peter felt like he’d sunk down into the floor. His brain couldn’t function enough to command his legs to move, to take a step back. Mentally, he was racing for a plan of action, but physically his body refused to comply.

“When I first ran into you, in costume of course, you actually had me worried,” – another laugh – “But when I connected the dots, realized you were trapped in my own household, I thought I’d take the chance to experiment around – see how miserable you could get. And it turned out that I had the power to crumple you without even laying a finger on you.”

Not entirely true, Peter thought, the memory of Beck striking him flashing through his mind.

“With you so depleted and tired, constrained here,” Beck gestured to the barred windows, taking another step forward, “I’ve had New York to myself. I’ve stayed down low enough that the Avengers don’t find me a big enough threat and with the neighborhood crime-fighter out of the way, I’ve been unstoppable.”

Peter couldn’t listen to the monologue anymore. He felt sick to his stomach and his spider-sense was urging him to kick into action.

Beck was mid-way through taking another step, about to close the gap between him and Peter when Peter’s brain finally got communications working the rest of his body. He slid a foot behind him to give some space to build momentum before running into a kick that hit Beck squarely in the chest. The force of the movement was enough to send Beck back through the doorway. He hit the wall of the hallway, and the aftershock of the hard impact buckled his legs, sending him to the floor.

Peter jumped forward and quickly slammed the door, locking it as if it could buy him time against an enhanced individual. Then he went back to his desk and with fumbling hands and slipped on the old web-shooters just as Beck came crashing through the door, shoulder first.

“I’m not cleaning that up,” Peter said, flight or fight mode activating stupid quips to pop up in his brain.

He shot two webs at Beck and flung him across the small bedroom and into his closet doors. With a path now cleared, Peter escaped out of the room. He rounded into the living room and stood dumbly for a moment in the mouth of the hallway, breathing hard, trying to decide what to do next. It was the epitome of fight or flight – he could leave out the front door and runaway from the terror currently trying to wrangle itself out of a collapsed closet or he could stay and take him on. He knew he needed to stay. He needed to put an end to Beck’s crimes.

He centered himself between the kitchen and the living room, facing the hallway in anticipation for Beck. He had no suit for protection, no Karen to help guide him in what was most likely going to be an uneven fight and he was exhausted from a week’s worth of no sleep and minimal meals. But he readied himself as best he could.

Beck emerged from the hall, looking completely pissed off.

“Unfortunately, Pete,” He said, “I’m a little tired of having you around.”

Peter wanted to roll his eyes at the line, but instead he spent the action shooting a web at a lamp on a standing table and smashing it against Beck’s head. The man grimaced at the impact, little shards of glass trickling to the ground, but otherwise was unphased. In response, he directed a burst of green energy at Peter who narrowly dodged out of the way, diving into the kitchen.

Beck was right behind him, two more cloudy beams of smoke firing at Peter. He dropped to the ground as one slammed into the cabinets, broken cups raining down on him, as the other flew into the oven, shattering its glass front.

He rolled over onto his back as Beck towered over him. Looking past Beck’s head, he saw an iron rack holding pots and pans and he quickly webbed it up, pulling it from where it was secured to the ceiling and down onto Beck.

The move gave him enough time to get back onto his feet and deliver a swift kick at Beck’s ankles. The action sent the man to the ground. He went in for another kick, hoping to collide his foot with Beck’s temple and send the man unconscious but Beck managed to catch his leg, pulling Peter down while rising up.

Peter’s head smacked onto the kitchen tile, dizzying him for a split second.

“You are such a nuisance,” Beck said, as the green smoke around his hands started to dissipate.

Peter’s face twisted in confusion, wondering why Beck was backing off. He didn’t waste time to cook up theories. Instead he grabbed onto the kitchen island and pulled himself onto his feet.

“You’re certainly making this little quarrel boring,” Beck, stepping away from Peter.

Clearly, he had some plan in mind, but Peter didn’t have time to care. He surged forward hoping to land a punch, but Beck moved out of the swing’s trajectory with ease.

“As much as I’d like to get this over with,” He said in a tone that made it sound like he was striking up casual conversation, “I’d also like to have some fun.”

Peter ignored him, taking another swing but suddenly Beck was gone. Peter’s punch hit nothing. Not even the kitchen wall because the kitchen was suddenly slipping away. The scene around him was melting into blackness.

“What the fuck,” Peter muttered to himself, already feeling overworked and certainly too tired to deal with whatever shit was happening around him.

“I don’t usually perform my illusions in my fights,” Beck’s voice came from behind him. He turned on his heel and swung again at the empty space. “Word of them would make me more alarming to the Avengers or SHIELD. But I don’t see why I can’t use them right now.”

Peter looked around the dark, vacant space he now found himself him. His brain was still processing what Beck had just said, when three Beck’s suddenly appeared before him.

“Pretty neat, huh?” They all said simultaneously as if they’d just performed a casual party trick, shrugging their shoulders in unison.

Peter flicked webs at two of them, both turning into wavering images that disappeared as the webbing hit them. He jumped at the remaining Beck, but that Beck also disappeared and instead Peter found himself suddenly falling off the edge of a building. The change was jarring and he struggled to take it in. He couldn’t feel himself dropping through the air, but he could hear it and see it. The word ‘illusion’ kept ringing in his ears, but he couldn’t convince himself that what he was seeing wasn’t real.

He spun around as the windows of skyrises flew past him and he launched a web, hoping for it to attach to the side of a building but no webbing left his web shooters. The half empty cases of webbing had finally run out. His fall ended when he felt his back collide with the top of a car. He could hear the metal denting around his body and a pain shot up his back. He rebounded off the car, rolling from its roof to the ground, face meeting the road. A gross _crack_ told him he had snapped his nose. He groaned in pain, squeezing his eyes shut, and rolled over onto his back. The feeling of rugged asphalt beneath him slipped away, replaced by hardwood floors. He hurriedly jumped to his feet, breathing gone haywire, as he looked around. There was no longer a sky he had plummeted from or skyscrapers lining a street.

He was in his bedroom in the apartment, but it looked undisturbed, as if no fight had taken place. Sunlight was streaming in through the window. There were no bars trapping him inside. Things oddly felt light. It was promising enough that he almost put the fight he was currently in out of mind. Ben’s suitcase was wide open on his bed. Inside there were neatly folded clothes, a passport on top of them. May’s glasses were missing. 

The bedroom door suddenly creaked, and Peter swung around to face whoever was coming through it, assuming Beck would be charging through it. But instead May and Ben pushed through.

“No,” The word tumbled out of Peter’s mouth, barely loud enough to be heard.

His limbs suddenly felt hollowed out. He almost couldn’t stand.

They both smiled at him in a way that wrenched his heart. He stumbled backwards, disbelieving the sight in front of him.

 _Illusions_ , he had to remind himself. But the worried, soft expression on May’s face, the one making her cheeks rise and lifting up her round glasses slightly, was too alluring to keep the idea of illusions and Beck in mind. Ben’s tousled brown hair, and the wrinkles in his shirt which he always refused to iron, were too real, too detailed not to believe.

Peter felt like gasping for air as he was being torn to pieces, part of him trying to focus reality while another half of him longed to buy into what he was seeing.

And then Beck was suddenly emerging behind May and Ben in full Mysterio garb, opaque bowl head and all.

“They seem like nice people,” Beck’s voice came not from the figure of Mysterio, but from somewhere else in the room. “Such a shame what happened.”

The words pierced through Peter, but he tried to ignore their context and instead focus on their origin.

“Such a shame you haven’t been able to find people like them since.”

The room started to flicker, the walls blinking in and out like a hologram. And then suddenly, it was another room. It was Peter’s old bedroom, the one he had with May and Ben. Then the room switched again. It was the room he stayed in under the care of his first foster parents. And then it changed back into his room at the apartment. His surrounding kept switching from room to room. Each shift of imagery started to become faster and faster. His room at May and Ben’s house, his first foster family’s place, the room at Beck and Caroline’s. They began to blur together as the pace continued to quicken. 

Peter was now standing in a moving room. The four walls around him, the floor and ceiling, were constantly changing at a speed beyond comprehension. Peter’s senses were getting overloaded.

He wanted to see May and Ben again but at the same time he wanted the illusion to stop. He wanted it all to be gone. For Beck to be gone.

“Poor Peter Parker can’t seem to find a home,” Beck’s voice came again, words vicious and biting.

Out of seemingly thin air, something struck Peter in the leg causing a pain to shoot up through his spine. He stumbled a few steps, recovering from the shock of having received a kick from Beck with no Beck in sight.

“I’m sure Caroline will be relieved to have you out of our hair,” Beck said.

Peter focused more on the voice this time. It was in front of him, but he registered it too late, and a fist collided with his stomach. He doubled over, legs trembling as they tried to support his aching figure.

“Sorry we couldn’t have been more gracious hosts,” Beck spoke again.

The voice was behind him this time.

“But I’ve got big plans and right now you’re the biggest thorn in my side.”

“Stop!” Peter shouted, reaching behind him right as Beck revealed himself.

He was directly behind Peter, mid-way through trying to lock an arm around Peter’s neck to choke him out. Peter grabbed Beck’s arms and threw him over his shoulder. Beck flung into the ground with surprising force. Peter hadn’t realized he’d mustered all his strength into that one move. The illusions ceased the moment Beck’s head hit the flickering floor.

With the illusions gone, Peter discovered they were still in the kitchen. Beck was below him, unconscious on the floor from the impact.

Peter let out a shaky breath. He cautiously nudged Beck with his foot. The man didn’t move except for the rise and fall of his chest.

Slowly, Peter backed away from him. He checked his faulty web shooters to make sure them running out of webbing had actually been real. They were indeed empty which meant he couldn’t secure Beck to the floor and make sure he wouldn’t get back up when he came too. But at this point Peter was too exhausted to care.

He limped out of the kitchen, pain shooting up his leg from where it has been struck. He crossed into the living room and slumped against the back of the couch, making sure from his position on the floor he had a straight, clear view of Beck through the kitchen opening.

He was too frightened to let Beck out of his sight. He didn’t trust going back into his bedroom to get his phone in the fear that the room around him might fade away again and he’d be submerged in a flurry of illusion.

So he leaned against the couch, eyes on Beck, and tried to catch his breath as his body ached.

*

Tony didn’t care if it was going to end up being an overreaction as he kicked down Peter’s apartment door fully suited up.

The minute he’d figured everything out, he had put on the armor and contacted SHIELD. Friday had sent an alert to the NYPD putting out warrants for Beck and Caroline. Members of SHIELD replied to Tony’s outreach by letting him know they sent agents to Caroline’s work to intercept her and bring her into custody for questioning. The same was supposed to be done for Beck but when agents arrived at his office, he was missing. His boss claimed that he had unexpectedly left work early, claiming family emergency.

Tony had already been planning to race to Peter’s apartment, but the info that Beck was gone made him get there in double-time.

Overreaction or not, he put his foot through the front door and marched right in.

“Peter?” He called out, helmet retracting.

The place was small. A narrow entryway lead from the front door into the living room. As walked through it, he saw Peter pressed up against the back of the couch, looking slumped and beaten.

“Kid?” Tony asked, wanting to run straight to him. But he restrained himself, alert for any danger.

“Stop,” Peter said.

It wasn’t the greeting Tony had expected, but immediately he stopped in his tracks. Peter looked freaked out by Tony’s presence. He straightened up from his position on the floor and stared at Tony with wide-eyes.

“Are – are you really here?” He asked.

Tony tilted his head slightly.

“Of course I’m here,” He said, taking a cautious step towards the kid trying to figure out what was wrong and where the hell Beck was.

“Wait!” Peter shouted, pushing himself back and away from Tony. “Say something only you and I would know.”

“What?” Tony asked, alarmed by the request.

His heart was pumping in overdrive and he wanted to throw all caution to the wind and go straight to the kid, but he kept himself levelheaded but locking into his usual mission-mode. It was the kind of mindset he would lock into when doing Avengers work, one that was never allowed to be clouded by too many emotions.

“Just do it,” Peter said.

There was a grim expression on his face that twisted knots in Tony’s stomach.

“Okay, okay,” He said, voice soft.

He wracked his brain for something that he knew the kid could trust.

“For your birthday you wanted magic webs, but I thought and still think, that’s a ridiculous idea,” He said.

The kid instantly sunk back against the couch with relief. He let out a deep breath, closing his eyes as he tipped his head back.

“Oh thank God,” He quietly muttered, before shakily pushing himself up onto his feet and in a frazzled tone adding, “You know, magic webs would’ve really come in handy today.” 

Tony started moving to Peter but paused halfway there when he caught a glimpse into the kitchen. He couldn’t truly take in the scene. He couldn’t take in the broken glass scattered across the kitchen tiles, or the destruction of cabinets and appliances, any of the wreckage of the fight that had taken place. All he could process was that Beck was crumpled on the kitchen floor directly across from where Peter was standing by the couch. He quickly put himself between them, stepping in front of Peter to aim a repulsor at Beck.

From behind, Peter weakly latched a hand onto the Iron Man armor. Tony could feel the meek weight tug on his shoulder.

“He’s out,” Peter breathed, always willing to defend the terrible no matter how terrible they are, “He’s unconscious – don’t worry.”

“It’s set to stun,” Tony said before firing a blast at the man for good measure.

He waited for Friday to confirm Peter’s claim before lowering his arms and turning to Peter.

“Fri, give me a status on the kid,” He said, gently placing metal hands on Peter’s shoulders as he scanned the kid down with his own eyes, too impatient to wait for Friday’s analysis.

“Fractured tailbone, broken nose, laceration on forehead that will require stitches, but other than that nothing vital, boss,” Friday said, and with her words came a shock of relief that switched Tony out of mission-mode.

He retracted the suit and without hesitation pulled Peter into a hug. Peter melted in the embrace, wrapping his arms around Tony, reveling in the warm feeling of security that came with the gesture. His eyes felt misty as the exhaustion finally hit bone deep and the trauma of the day burrowed down with it.

“You’re okay,” Tony said as if hearing Peter’s thoughts. “You’re okay.”

He held him for a moment longer, before putting Peter an arm’s length away so he could look the kid over one more time.

“I wanted to tell you, Mr. Stark,” Peter said without thinking. His mind was foggy with all sorts of thoughts and they just started leaving his mouth absentmindedly. “I wanted to tell you that things were really shitty here. But, I don’t know, something just held me back. I guess I was scared. And I also tried to tell myself things weren’t _that_ bad. But then it all took a really unexpected turn.” He couldn’t stop the words from pouring out. He wanted to unload everything right now.

“It’s okay kid,” Tony said. “I’m sorry I didn’t figure everything out sooner.”

Sirens could be heard outside, getting closer the apartment building.

“How did you even know to come?” Peter asked.

He had a hand wrapped around Tony’s arm, afraid that if he let go, Tony would disappear and just be another illusion.

“Had a hunch things were off,” Tony said, “So when you left I did some research I should’ve done ages ago and all the pieces fell into place. That dumbass had a piece of his real name in his alias name so no matter what, he was close to being found out anyways.”

Tony wanted to say so much more. He wanted to apologize explicitly for not having been able to help Peter sooner. He wanted to apologize for letting Peter get stuck with a foster family in the first place. He wanted to better express the amount of love he had for the kid.

Instead he settled on, “Let’s get you home.”

Peter latched on to the word home like it was a lifeline. It pumped relief through his veins and gave him a little piece of hope to hold onto that things were going to be okay.

*

Tony’s rescue ended up feeling like the eye of the storm. Things grew hectic again as SHILED came on the scene and detained Beck. At the compound, Peter had to sit down with an agent and give an account of Beck’s abilities. He also had to recount the events that had just taken place, in detail, so SHIELD had an idea of what Beck could do once he was awake.

Reliving what had happened only hours ago was difficult, especially when Tony’s eyes were on him the whole time as he talked through the illusions with the agent. He couldn’t push away feelings of embarrassment and unplaced guilt as he remembered seeing May and Ben and the words Beck had said to him. He just wanted everything to do with the apartment and Mysterio to be over.

It wasn’t until the next day that things settled down. The storm finally passed.

Tony made breakfast even though Peter felt too sick to eat, still shaken by yesterday’s events. Peter spent most of the day resting, swaddled up in his bed. Sleep didn’t come easily, the faces of May and Ben were burned on the back of his eyelids, but he managed to doze off eventually.

Around 7 ‘o clock in the evening, Tony decided to try again to get him to eat.

Two knocks rapped on Peter’s bedroom door before it pushed open and Tony stepped inside holding a bowl of soup.

Peter sat up and crossed his legs and Tony perched on the edge of the bed.

“I know you’re probably going to say you still aren’t hungry, but I also know you’re lying so here,” He said, holding the bowl out to Peter.

Peter gave him half a smile before taking it from him.

“How are you holding up?” Tony asked, watching Peter absently stir the soup with a spoon rather than eat it.

“I think I’m doing okay,” Peter said, genuinely unsure. “It’s kind of the first time I’ve ever dealt with something like this.”

“I think we might need to invest in some therapy for you,” Tony said.

His tone was joking but the offer was serious. He was already mentally thumbing through contact cards of possible psychiatrists for superheroes.

There was a moment of silence. Peter was staring intently into the bowl, too busy thinking to eat. Tony kept sweeping his eyes over the kid as if he were fresh out of battle – trying to find a way to fix whatever was hurting Peter.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter asked, eyes suddenly on Tony.

“Yeah?”

“What’s next?” He said.

“What do you mean?”

“What’s going to happen next?” Peter said, “Or I guess I mean where am I going to go next since my foster parents ended up being criminals.”

Tony was taken aback by the question because he hadn’t considered Peter going anywhere. He hadn’t even thought about the topic plaguing Peter’s mind because in his own mind the logical answer was that Peter was going to stay here. There was no way he was going to let Peter get thrown into another shit show.

A few seconds passed as Tony crafted a response. The moment felt parallel to the one he’d had with Peter the other night. That sense of responsibility came flooding in and he knew he needed to treat this moment with care.

“I didn’t even think to ask you this because I just assumed it would make sense to you like it does for me,” Tony said, “But do you want to live here?”

Peter perked up at that, his distant and perplexed expression suddenly becoming one of surprise.

“You practically already do. You’ve got a room and everything,” Tony added, looking around the space, taking in the designs and furniture he’d picked out specifically for Peter.

Peter still didn’t stay anything. He just kept looking at Tony with disbelief. He heard everything Tony had said but the words were still piecing together in his head to get to a point where he could glean meaning off of them. Of course it made sense to Peter, like it did for Tony, for him to stay here. But the idea still felt unreal. It still felt like a wish lost on some birthday candles.

“I care about you a hell of a lot, kid. I’d love to have you here. But you don’t have to if it’s too overwhelming. We have all the time in the world to figure things out –“

“Of course I want to stay with you,” Peter interrupted, absolutely beaming as the realization struck him.

“Good, because there was no way I was letting you go back in the foster care system.” Tony laughed.

_Epilogue – 3 Weeks Later_

Peter and Tony were sat in a tiny office. Sun was coming in through a large windowpane to their left, but blinds paled the light as it filtered through. Plants were meticulously placed around the area and books were stacked around as well.

A woman sat across from them in a chair behind a mahogany desk. In front of her were clean stacks of papers and beige file folders. Her computer was tilted towards them so they could peek at the screen if needed.

“Okay,” She said with a smile as she slid a thin pile of papers between the surrounding stacks, “this is the last of it.”

“Piece of cake,” Tony said, aiming the words at Peter more than anyone else in the room.

Rhodey was standing somewhere behind them tapping his foot to pass the time. He volunteered to be a witness for the signing. Happy was stuck on a bench outside the room, waiting anxiously although there was nothing to worry about. But Peter could understand the inexplicable sense of worry Happy had uncharacteristically been showing today. His own heart was beating a thousand miles per hour and he could tell, despite Tony’s front, that the man was also zapped by shaking nerves.

Afterall, what was happening today was a big deal.

Peter watched intently as Tony flicked through the papers like an Olympic professional trained in notary work, initialing where needed. There was a sudden swell of excitement and nausea in Peter as Tony flipped to the final page. It felt like someone had pulled a wire taught in Peter’s chest and snipping it in two was either going to calm him or crumple him.

He listened to the pen in Tony’s hand as it softly scratched the paper, a flourishing signature from _the_ Tony Stark to legally bind the adoption of one Peter Parker.

The second the pen was set down and Tony leaned back in his chair, a sense of relief washed through Peter. It was a sensation somehow even stronger that when he saw Tony bust down the door in the apartment. A tension in his body he didn’t realize he’d been holding since May and Been died was finally relieved.

He looked at Tony with a beaming grin on his face.

The woman took the documents, glanced them over, and then said:

“Congratulations!”

“Guess you’re stuck with me permanently, kid,” Tony joked once they finished giving thanks and bidding goodbye with the woman.

Peter let out a small laugh, still trying to shake off some disbelief.

“Better hope its not a mistake,” Rhodey said, flashing Peter a bright smile.

Happy joined them as the made their way out of the building, looking just as joyful as the rest of the bunch.

“No turning back,” He said to Peter.

“Stop making me sound so terrible,” Tony said as fished in his pockets for his sunglasses, looking superficially annoyed.

Happy went to go fetch the car and Rhodey parted ways with the three, offering one more congratulations before heading down the street for his own vehicle.

Peter checked his phone as he and Tony waited at the curb for Happy to pull up. It was blowing up with ecstatic messages from Ned. Each one was a congratulating freak out about the fact that Peter was now the legal child of Tony Stark. Peter just chuckled at the all caps texts before tucking his phone back in his pocket.

He looked over at Tony who was fidgeting with his watch.

“That felt way longer that it actually was,” Tony said, tossing a glance to Peter.

He exposed his nerves by letting out a sigh of relief. He’d been just as nervous as Peter for the adoption.

“Agreed,” Peter said, thinking about how time had slowed down with those last couple pages of paperwork.

Nothing else needed to be said after that. Tony just pulled Peter into his side and ruffled his hair a little as they waited for Happy. Peter soaked up the moment. He listened to the sounds of the busy street, people walking and chatting, cars honking. He felt warm with Tony’s arm over his shoulders and felt relief too, being content with where he was. Somehow his wish had come true and he was finally going to earn some stability in his mostly unstable life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe its over and that I actually finished a chaptered fic! I hope y'all liked the ending, because I was a bit unsure about it at first.  
> Thanks so much for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> So you probably know the twist now, but keep reading to see how it plays out


End file.
